Hunting Moon (Decorah Security Series, Book #11): A Paranormal Romantic Suspense Novel (6 page)

The way she said it made his stomach clench. “No he won’t. You’re stronger than he is.”

“How do you know?”

“You already tried to escape twice, and you attacked me when I came in here.”

She winced.

“You aren’t giving in. You were fighting him, even when you didn’t know what you were up against.” He dragged in a breath and let it out. “But I can’t get you out of here tonight.”

“Why not?”

“Because I’m not prepared. I stumbled on this place by accident, and I didn’t bring any equipment with me. We have to do it tomorrow night.”

“Fate brought you here to me.”

He’d been thinking something similar. Fate or the ancient gods who had turned the males in his family into more than men.

“I know it’s hard, but try to stay cool for a little while longer. Don’t act like you’re fighting the doctor. Pretend you’re cooperating with him.”

“Okay.”

“I’ll be back for you tomorrow. I promise.”

She slung her arms around his neck and hung on tight, and he felt her tension, sensing that she was fighting not to sob.

“I know,” he whispered.

“You can’t know.”

“I can understand desperation.”

He ran his hands up and down her back, teetering on the brink, knowing that if he didn’t get away now, he’d do something he’d regret.

Before he could change his mind, he stood up quickly and walked to the door.

Brand pressed his ear to the door and listened. When he heard nothing, he stepped into the hall, knowing that if he looked back at Tory again, he could never leave. But if he tried to spring her now, he could get her killed. That thought was the only thing that could make him keep his resolve.

As he stood in the hallway, the idea of locking her in again made him almost physically sick, but he had to do it. Everything had to be just as he’d found it.

He had just finished when he heard footsteps coming from the direction of the stairs.

He sprinted in the other direction, slipping into one of the empty rooms. The steps stopped at Tory’s door, and he knew he had been just in time.

Holding the door open a crack, he looked into the hall.

A slimly built older man was looking around, his expression suspicious, and Brand suspected he might have heard someone up here.

Brand tensed, ready to flatten the guy if he came into the room where he was hiding.

To his relief, the man stayed where he was and tried the lock on Tory’s door, then looked through a peephole at her.

Was it Dr. Raymond or someone else?

The man stayed where he was for long moments. Then he finally turned and left.

Brand waited for several minutes before checking the hall again and making sure it was empty. He didn’t know the time, but he was hoping that a lot of the people here would already have turned in. Or maybe they were relaxing in front of a television set in some common room.

That still left him to decide how to get away. He’d come in as a wolf, and only a wolf could slip back under the fence. But was it better to stay as he was before he got there?

He stepped back into the room where he’d hidden and crossed to the window. When he looked out, he saw that it had the same view as Tory’s. From here there was no good way down, but to his right, he saw the roof of the back porch where the kitchen door was located. From there, he could lower himself to the ground.

He was cautious as he stepped into the hall, then proceeded in the direction of the next room. Once inside, he closed the door behind him and crossed to the balcony, then quietly opened the window and scanned the grounds for signs of movement. This would be when he most visible if a passing guard happened to look up. Brand waited to be sure nobody had spotted him before easing the window up and stepping over the sill, coming down on the flat roof but staying low.

Again he listened and swept his gaze over the grounds around the house before crossing the porch roof and climbing over the edge, stretching out his arms to lessen the distance he would have to drop.

He hit the ground, stayed on his feet, and dashed to the side of the house where there were no doors. Pressed against the wood siding between two windows, he looked and listened for several moments. When he was sure he was alone, he began to unbutton his borrowed shirt. Next he pulled off his pants and balled up the clothing. Naked in the cooling spring air, he began to say the chant that would turn him into his more primitive persona. It was painful to keep changing form so often, but he saw no other alternative. It was one thing for a wolf or a big dog to be seen inside the fence. It was quite another for a strange man to get caught in here.

And it was the right choice to have made. Almost as soon as Brand had transformed, one of the guards came around the side of the house and stopped short when he saw the animal.

“What the hell?”

In one smooth motion, the man reached for the gun he carried in a holster at his side, unsnapping the shield and drawing the weapon. But Brand was already leaping forward, knocking the gun out of his hand and slamming the guard to the ground. Trying not to cause too much damage, he chomped down on the guy’s gun hand. The man screamed, and Brand silently cursed. Knowing he had very little time now, he abandoned the pile of clothing he’d discarded and pelted for the fence.

He could hear loud voices behind him as he hightailed it toward safety.

“Patrick? What happened?” one of them asked.

“A wolf or a big dog attacked me.”

“Jesus. Are you sure?”

“Yeah.”

“How did it get in here?”

The man answered with an angry retort. “Who the hell knows?”

At the barrier, Brand scraped away the dirt he had kicked into place, then squeezed under the chain links, tearing the skin of his back as he forced himself through.

The guys must have stopped arguing about what had happened, because a shot hit the ground behind him as he sprinted for the woods. Behind him, lights snapped on, and a siren began to wail.

More shots followed him, but he was in the trees now, and he didn’t think the men were coming through the gate to chase an animal—unless it had killed someone, which he’d been careful not to do. Still, he was remaking his plans as he put distance between himself and the compound.

An animal had gotten in. The guards would plug up the hole, and they’d be on the alert for intruders, which meant he’d need a wire cutter. And he’d have to proceed with extra caution when he came back tomorrow night.

Would they move Tory? The question made his throat clench. He’d counted on knowing where she was.

For a split second, he thought about contacting Decorah Security and asking for help. Then he thought about Tory’s situation. He’d heard the men saying she was expendable. Would Dr. Son of a Bitch kill her if he thought she was going to be captured?

That danger meant stealth was Brand’s best bet now. After he got her out of there, he could call for backup.

oOo

As footsteps pounded up the stairs, Tory forced herself to lie in bed with her eyes closed. She’d heard a shot, then lights had snapped on, and a siren began to sound.

Oh Lord, they must have spotted Brand.

But she was supposed to be drugged, and she couldn’t react like a normal person would.

She lay rigid, her heart drumming inside her chest. In the next second, the door burst open, and Dr. Raymond charged in.

Her eyes blinked open, like she’d been sleeping.

“What?” she said in a quavery voice.

“Are you all right?” he asked as he looked around the room like he expected to find someone in here with her.

She’d wanted Brand to stay with her. Now she thanked God that he had left in time. But where was he? Was he all right?

“Yes,” she managed to answer.

After a long moment, the doctor backed away, closed the door behind himself and locked it.

She lay with her heart still thumping, not knowing the outcome of the emergency. And not even sure what had happened. Her best guess was that someone had seen Brand—and shot at him. But had he gotten away?

Climbing out of bed, she crossed to the balcony and stepped out. In the light that now flooded the grounds, she could see men moving around the property, searching, and she had to conclude that if they’d found Brand, they wouldn’t still be searching. They would already have hauled him inside for questioning—or killed him.

She shuddered. Now she had a better idea why leaving with Brand tonight would have been impossible.

She stood on the balcony for several more minutes, but the cool air finally forced her back inside.

Lying down again, she hugged her arms around her shoulders and rocked back and forth, praying that Brand was all right.

Although she’d never met him before tonight, she’d felt something for him that she couldn’t even name. She’d started by wanting his help. But she wanted a lot more, too. She tried to analyze what she sensed about the two of them and finally concluded that it was a kind of instant recognition that they belonged together.

The thought startled her. Was it really true, or was that what her bombed-out brain wanted to believe?

It was true, she told herself. Or did she have to believe that because his leaving made her feel more alone than she ever had in her life? More alone than when she’d first come to this room.

And what about tomorrow?

She shuddered. The guards discovered an intruder inside the fence, and their defenses would be up.

Brand had said he was coming back for her, but what if that turned out to be impossible?

Teeth clenched, she ordered herself to stay calm because there was nothing else she could do.

Brand had woken her up from what she could only think of as a drugged sleep, and now the poison in her bloodstream was taking over again. She’d stayed as coherent as she could for him, but her mind was starting to feel like a flying circus, and she couldn’t stop herself from wondering if she’d made up her late-night visitor.

Only, if she had, what about all the excitement outside?

She fought to stay awake, but the drugs in her system exerted a powerful draw on her. Her eyes flickered closed, and before long, she was sleeping.

And in sleep, she got what she wanted. A noise startled her, and she saw a shape in her room. At first she thought it was the animal she had seen earlier. Then she realized it was a man, walking purposefully toward her, his feet making no sound on the wooden floor. She couldn’t see his face, and she knew she should be afraid. But fear wasn’t part of the equation. She understood on some deep instinctive level that it was Brand coming back to help her make it through the night. Sitting up, she held out her arms to him.

When he’d been in her bed earlier, he’d kissed her and pulled her body against his, then told her they couldn’t do anything else because he had to make sure no one came in and discovered them.

But this was different. They weren’t in her room anymore. They were in a place where she didn’t have to worry about Dr. Son of a Bitch charging in and seeing the man who was going to rescue her. She’d been lying on a hard, narrow cot. In this secret place, the bed was a lot wider and a lot cushier. And it wasn’t in the place where she was being held captive. It was out in the middle of the forest, in a pretty little glen with a canopy of trees overhead and a carpet of bright green moss on the ground. The sweatpants and shirt she’d been wearing were gone, replaced by an almost transparent gown with a high waist and thin straps.

“I told you I’d come back,” Brand said as he stood beside the bed.

“You didn’t make me wait until tomorrow night. Thank you—for bringing me here.”

“It wasn’t me. You’re the one who did it. You called me back,” he said in a husky voice as he pulled the covers aside and slipped into bed with her.

His closeness made her heart leap.

“We both wanted to do more a little while ago,” he said, then brushed his lips against hers.

It was a light kiss, his mouth only rubbing back and forth, demanding nothing she was unwilling to give.

His touch stirred her senses as no other man ever had.

Deep in her mind, she knew this time with him couldn’t be real, but she pushed that notion aside because she didn’t have to deal with reality—yet.

Although sensuality swirled inside her, there was still a little devil of doubt whispering in her ear.

You don’t know him. Who is he really? What does he want from you?

She was sure he sensed her uncertainty. Lifting his head, he looked down at her.

“We don’t have to do anything you don’t want to do,” he murmured. “Do you want me to leave you now?”

“No!” She heard the urgency in her own voice. “No. I need you with me.”

“I’m here to please you.”

He increased the erotic quality of the kiss, his lips moving over hers with an expertise that told her he knew how to pleasure a woman.

Mind and body, she responded to the sensuality of the encounter, craving more, craving everything he could give her.

And she sensed that he felt the same.

His tongue played with the seam of her lips, and she opened for him, wanting the kiss to deepen. He obliged her, turning his attention to the inside of her lips, then plunging farther in to stroke along the side of her tongue.

She made a small sound of protest when he withdrew—before he caught her lower lip between his teeth and gently nipped at her.

The protest turned to a purr.

“You like that.”

“You know I do.”

“And you don’t want me to stop. Tell me what you want.”

“Touch me.”

“Like this?”

His fingers stroked her cheeks, her jawline, her neck, moving downward, sending tingles of sensation over her skin.

“Yes,” she gasped.

“Where else should I touch you?”

“Don’t make me tell you.”

He laughed. “Then show me.”

She tugged at the covers, dragging them down to her waist, showing him her body through the thin fabric of the gown.

His gaze was like an erotic touch as he focused on the hard points of her nipples. Reaching out, he circled one distended bud with his finger. She gasped as heat shot downward through her body to her core.

He watched her face as he played with both nipples through the gown.

Then he pulled the garment up and over her head.